


Bobbie & Clyde

by appetiteformotley



Category: Guns N' Roses, Skid Row (US Band)
Genre: M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:07:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23758858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/appetiteformotley/pseuds/appetiteformotley
Summary: Axl and Baz set out under the radar to investigate Izzy's new mystery date without getting caught. The only problem is, they both suck at it.Like,a lot.
Relationships: Axl Rose/Izzy Stradlin, Axl Rose/Sebastian Bach, Duff McKagan/Izzy Stradlin
Comments: 10
Kudos: 45





	1. Intro

**Author's Note:**

> hey all! ao3 is still kinda new to me but i've decided to start up another multichap with more than 1 pairing for once! :D feedback is always appreciated ♡

. . . Sebastian's not sure what the time had read when he got up this morning, but he suspects somewhere around four or five… give or take. His phone was ringing off the hook -- and it was the _special_ phone, the one he kept in his room for groundbreaking occurrences like people dying or the world ending, so he knew better than to let the machine pick it up like he did with the majority of his phone calls.

Of course, only a handful of people even had that landline to begin with… like Snake, or Lars, or managers and their executive managers and their _assistant_ executive managers, and _ma-a-a-ybe_ that one girl from the pizza place a few blocks down the street… If he even pawned it off to her in the first place. He _was_ a little drunk when he scribbled it on the back of the receipt, and he _did_ tell her she should invest in a wardrobe with lower cut collars because her tits were _banging_ and deserved to be seen _,_ but that was hardly snub-worthy, right? Who gets mad at a little friendly advice like that?

Clearly not people like _Axl Rose,_ Sebastian thinks as he swings open his front door to step out and greet him. Axl is, like, the sanest person he knows! Sort of. He's sound when he's level-headed, anyway, and ever since he's been in cahoots with that scary straight-laced guitar player of his, he's actually been pretty tolerable to be around for extended periods of time.

Well.. for the most part, that is.

Until the arguments began.

Until Sebastian suddenly found himself catering to late-night phone calls where Axl did nothing but blubber to him until the sun was just beginning to peek over the city's polluted horizon; going on and on about how inconsiderate his partner was and how rude he could be when he wasn't high on smack and _"It's the third day this week that he's fought me over something so fucking stupid. I swear, I'm at the end of my wits here, Baz! Can you believe this fuckstick?"_

Sometimes, his guitarist kicked him out. And sometimes, he left on his own volition-- taking with him nothing but a rolled up blanket and a pack of cigarettes, though lately he's been bringing nothing at all.

Because Sebastian is a _good friend._ And Sebastian might want to get a head over his best friend's _fuckbuddy,_ because _he_ likes Axl too; so he bought Axl his own toothbrush and his own box of cereal, refreshed every month or so to make sure it's never eaten stale.

The only real conclusion he came to was the most obvious one. He was the metaphorical revolving door when it came to Axl and his relationship problems; welcoming him into his home time and time and time again when the older singer hit a rough patch in the road.

Only… they weren't necessarily as much _rough patches_ as they were, like, _potholes_. Big, deep, emotional potholes that Sebastian had to experience with Axl every time he showed up at Sebastian's door with his hands jammed in his pockets and his lips twisted into a frown, looking two blinks away from unleashing a torrent of tears and snot and sadness right on Sebastian's front stoop.

He never _does_ , of course, but it's something to consider that Axl even shows that kind of vulnerability with Sebastian to begin with. For as long as they've been friends, Axl's always been the cool cat with his metaphorical poop in a group (there's really no better analogy), and Guns' was rocking the world with an iron fretboard!

Though it never occurred to anybody at face value that Axl, in fact, did _not_ have his poop in a group at all. None of them did, it felt like, but Axl was troubled deeper than the liquor and drugs, and it showed in the way he'd cling to Sebastian a little too tightly before the two of them parted ways, or how Axl would drink himself silly and clutch Sebastian's jaw between his thumb and fingers sometimes, examining the blonde's face like he might find the answers to all of his problems if he just looked hard enough -- and those instances were always _the worst,_ because it really felt like he wanted to lean in and _kiss_ him or something...

Which, _again_ , Axl never does. Sebastian can't find it in himself to be disappointed for too long, though; especially when the anticipated kisses were substituted with deep, sentimental conversations about how much Axl appreciated him as his best buddy instead, and well… he supposes with someone as critical as Axl, his drunk words really _are_ his sober thoughts. 

Tonight, Sebastian suspects that whatever had happened in Axl's situation is much like what happened in all the others. He looks tense, which always alludes to a fight of some sort pre-arrival.

"Hey, man!" he greets, smiling wearily. Axl shuffles his feet, keeping his gaze glued to the pavement. "What's up?"

Silence stretches long and heavy between them, the only sounds being the typical late night ambience that downtown Los Angeles provides. Somewhere off in the distance, a car horn blares.

"Izzy?" He tries again, almost regretting his question when Axl practically wilts like a dying flower before him. "Here- why don't you come inside?"

The inside of his house is droll and underfurnished; practically left the way it was displayed when he'd first purchased it last fall. Nobody's ever had a real issue with the lack of personality, though Axl commented once on how harsh the echo was without paintings and pictures to dampen the sound -- and if Sebastian's being honest with himself, he's never around much to care about that kind of stuff, anyway.

It sure does make the shuffle of their feet a whole lot more awkward, though.

"Drink?"

The routine was the same. Let Axl in, take Axl's jacket, mix Axl a very specific kind of cocktail, and then listen to Axl lament about his boy toy until he's exhausted and crashes in the guest bedroom and sleeps off whatever foul mood he'd showed up in.

This time, however, Axl stops Sebastian in the hallway with a hand on his shoulder. He turns, perplexed, and Axl scowls.

"Actually," he mutters, "I'd just like to talk, if that's okay with you."

Sebastian blinks. "Oh. 'Course, dude."

So they skip the kitchen and head straight for the den instead, and while Sebastian throws himself down onto the couch, Axl takes up space in the recliner across from him gingerly; his expression worn down with stress.

More silence. Sebastian scratches at his cheek.

"So… what's got you bummed this time, man?"

Axl inhales deeply. His eyes meet Sebastian's, and he waits a moment or two before he opens his mouth… and then closes it. Huffs. Bites his lower lip before he opens it to try again, and--

"How do you feel about Italian food?"

Sebastian hesitates before he laughs, still puzzled but desperate to get the ball rolling already. "Italian food?" He asks.

"Yeah."

"I mean… it's good. I like it." Sebastian pauses, before reclining in his seat and crossing an ankle over a knee. "Why you ask?"

Axl goes back to biting his lip, looking about ten years younger. Looking about _Sebastian's_ age, actually-- all small and _timid_ and stuff. If Sebastian hadn't known that Axl was capable of manslaughter via the use of his thumbs, and _only_ his thumbs, he might've suspected that Axl was the meek and mousy type.

"I'm cashing in on that favor you owe me," timid-Axl says, eyes darting around the room. Sebastian lifts a brow curiously. "I need you to come with me to a restaurant tomorrow."

Sebastian is thrown. "For what?"

"Him."

Confused, Sebastian tilts his head. "You mean Iz-"

"Yes," Axl rushes out before Sebastian can finish his sentence. He blinks a few times, and then, quieter, "He's seeing someone else."

 _Ah._ So there was no fight, after all.

Still, Sebastian treads the topic carefully; cherry picking his words so that he doesn't step on Axl's toes.

"Sorry, man," he says, earnestly. "What, um. What's the deal with the Italian food, then?"

Axl's eyes snap up quickly then, all the shy behavior suddenly whisked away and replaced with a sort of _hostility_ ; shown in the depths of his venomous green eyes. Their gazes lock, and it's like all the air has been swiped from Sebastian's lungs. "We're gonna go find out who it is."

"Uh…"

"He didn't even tell me. He didn't call anything off, didn't give me a heads up, nothing. He just stopped showing up, and I had to learn through our fucking _tour manager_ that he's been sneaking off with Duff and Matt every opportunity he gets! They didn't say anything about it either!" Axl, who'd begun to bounce his foot anxiously, throws his hands up with an empty scoff. "They still won't. They're hiding something."

"And the spaghetti?"

Axl fixes Sebastian with a look. "I got word that he's headed downtown tomorrow. We're going to investigate."

Sebastian perks up at this. "Like spies?"

" _Sure,_ " Axl says slowly, "like spies."

"Fuck yeah!" Sebastian fist pumps the air, prompting Axl to roll his eyes. "Alright! I'm in. Are we going to that one place just off the strip? The one that just opened up like a month ago, or whatever?"

"That's the one. Meet me there around five-ish, and bring a fucking… book, or something. Put your hair up. We're going for inconspicuous, not dead obvious."

Sebastian nods eagerly, clasping his hands together on his lap. He's got a million different outfits stacked up in his mind to pull this whole thing off, so the only _real_ problem he's going to have to face is finding the right one.

He's also going to brush off the fact that Axl is practically inviting him to meddle in his and Izzy's relationship, but he figures that so long as he's been extended the offer to do so, then it's all water under the fridge… or however that saying goes.

He'll do it. Because he's a _good friend._ And he might want to get a head over his best friend's _fuckbuddy,_ because _he_ likes Axl too.

"One sec," the blonde chirps as he jumps to his feet and scurries into the kitchen, procuring a few shots from the first bottle of alcohol he sees and hurries back to the living room.

Handing a glass to Axl, he beams. "I know you said you just wanted to talk, but now it's time to seal the deal with a kiss."

Axl laughs as he takes it. "Yeah, whatever. Cheers."

"To the new fuckin' Bonnie and Clyde! Rock and roll partners in crime, dude!"

"Shut the hell up and take your shot, Baz."


	2. One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well _that's_ not how it was supposed to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay! I hope this make up for it ♡

Axl said inconspicuous, but he never mentioned anything about _style_.

Sebastian's got a visor strapped to his head with his hair tied into a thick, messy bun at the back; brown eyes hidden behind a sleek pair of Ray Bans and a crop top fitting loosely to his chest. He'd gone through a million and one ideas on how to dress for the occasion, but every time he tried to settle on something like 'escaped prison convict' or 'crazed killer clown on a rampage' his mind always drifted back to Axl… to his relationship problems, and the fact that Sebastian wants to impress him rather than fan the flames of his infamous temper.

So, he did the right thing. The respectable thing. He waved off Scotti's attempts to coerce him into a hotdog costume and he shook his head disdainfully when Rachel suggested he should just ghost the man entirely, because if he's going to do this then he's going to take it very, very seriously.

That's right. He went as a beach bum. 

A _sexy_ beach bum.

A sexy beach bum that Axl is casually turning to look at once he hears his name being called from somewhere behind him, tilting down his own shades and nearly choking on the piece of gum in his mouth. His eyes are wide and comical, like he'd just jumped out of a Sunday cartoon, and the initial sight of it makes Sebastian giggle as he saunters closer.

"Hey, dude!" The blonde greets as he approaches.

"Baz!" Axl hisses, brows pinched. He takes a step closer himself, wrapping a fist in Sebastian's cut-off tee and yanking him down to his level. "Are you deaf? Are you _stupid?_ "

"Yes and yes," Sebastian replies, trying to uncurl Axl's fingers from his shirt half-heartedly. "Trust me, nobody's gonna notice us. I even shaved my legs for this."

Bewildered, Axl glances down. His gaze lingers on Sebastian's thighs for a moment, as if admiring them, but when he looks back up again his face reads mortification. "You're joking."

Sebastian pouts. "Do I look like I'm joking?" He asks, and stumbles a bit when Axl suddenly releases him. "Oh c'mon! It's the last thing you'd expect, right?"

"You? In pussy shorts?" Axl glares, exhaling through his nose. "Hardly."

Smiling impishly, Sebastian shifts from foot to foot as he finally takes in Axl's appearance. He's not much different aside from the heavy brown coat he's wearing, worn down and aged with use. His torn jeans are recognizable but he's got both his feet in a pair of sneakers way below what his pay grade can offer him, and his _hair…_

Curious, Sebastian tilts his head. "You didn't put it up?"

"What?" Axl blinks. He follows Sebastian's eyes and realization suddenly dawns on his face. "Oh. No." He shrugs. "I just told you to pull yours up because you're an actual fuckin' beacon with your two-storey legs."

Sebastian's grin turns sheepish. "Sorry," he says, although he is, in fact, not sorry at all.

"Whatever." Axl turns his head to spit his gum somewhere off into the curb of the road, and with his hands jammed into the pockets of his big weathered coat he nods towards the doors of the building they're standing beside. "You ready? Might want to start heading in."

There's a somber quality to Axl's voice, like he's trying to appear unaffected but he's doing a shit job at hiding his emotions. His brows are still creased, his lips twisted into a scowl, and there's no denying the fact that he's clearly upset with the situation at hand. Obviously this whole 'date' of theirs isn't meant to be fun, and Sebastian knows it isn't anything more than them spying on Izzy, but… still. A guy can dream, can't he?

And when they turn to walk inside, it's so easy to pretend that's not the case when Axl presses a warm hand the bare skin of his lower back, guiding him through the large glass doors.

  
  
  
  


The food is great, just like Axl said it would be. Well, okay, he didn't; but he implied it, and Sebastian already had the feeling he'd enjoy whatever the overpriced place whipped up for him anyway. That happened to be chicken marsala. Three plates of it, actually, because the serving sizes were smaller than shit and Sebastian is a big, big boy.

Axl didn't mind. He paid for it all without even bothering to ask to split the tab, staring at Sebastian vacantly from across the fancy candlelit table with his chin propped up in his hand. Occasionally he'd add his two cents to a conversation but for the most part sat still, and Sebastian felt a pang of melancholy strike him every time the other man's eyes slid to the front entrance before settling back on him again. Waiting. Expecting.

He's not here for Baz. And it's a heavy pill to swallow– shit, probably one of the heaviest he's had to swallow in a long time, but he gets it. Honestly, maybe the arms' distance between them- the cool, platonic barrier clearly set up to establish boundaries- is a good thing. Sebastian knows he'd be cut a thousand times deeper if Axl were to fake his attraction, his romance and charm just for the sake of keeping up appearances. He's a very honest person, and for that, Sebastian is grateful… even if the truth does hurt like a bitch.

Right now, as the blonde noisily stabs his fork through a fluffy tower of tiramisu, Axl continues to remain impassive. He's gone to picking at the frayed sleeve cuffs of his jacket, completely engrossed by the little black threads, and hardly acknowledges the telltale sign of a fork clattering against ceramic. When Sebastian pushes his plate away, though, is when Axl finally looks up.

"Full?" He asks.

"They never showed up," Sebastian says flatly, ignoring his question. He does a quick sweep through the restaurant with his eyes, taking in nothing but old wealthy couples and men in sleek business suits. "I think they might've changed their minds."

Axl leans back in his chair, straightening himself out with a sigh. "Maybe."

Despite his own selfish feelings, Sebastian still feels a hint of sympathy when he sees the defeated look on Axl's face. Tonight meant something to him. He didn't expect to walk away from this place without answers.

Chewing on his lower lip, Sebastian taps his fingertips against the surface of the table and bounces a restless leg. It's not common for him to feel as awkward as he does now, but the atmosphere is thick with disappointment and resignation and he's not prepared to blow off the rest of what could possibly be their only night together. Like a couple of budding lovers, or something. 

With an awkward sort of half-shrug, Sebastian huffs out a small laugh, one meant to draw Axl's attention, and smiles at the redhead when he meets his eyes again.

"The night is still young, Ax," he says slowly, cautiously, "why don't we go for a walk? Dick around in the shops, or something?"

After a brief moment of scrutiny, Axl's features gradually soften into something much more relaxed. The corner of his mouth twitches, perhaps in amusement, and he rolls his eyes skyward before shoving his seat back with an audible screech. "Whatever," he murmurs again, though this time the hint of a grin rounding the apples of his cheeks.

Sebastian's heart soars. His shoulders loosen the tension they hold and his stomach feels a bit uneasy, but fuck, that's love, isn't it? Love that makes people weak in the knees and tender in the chest and everything becomes so much more interesting, lively, vibrant and just so fucking _good_ when they're around. 

Axl's always done that. Ever since Sebastian met him, coked out and drunk and sweaty from a rigorous performance, he's done that.

And now, regardless of the unfortunate circumstances he's gotten himself wrapped up in, he's still fucking doing it.

"Ice cream first, you think?"

Axl flashes him a weak, yet ever-still-present smile. " _Whatever_."

***

Ice cream wasn't the smartest idea, but Sebastian never claimed to be the smartest guy. In fact, his intelligence could be easily debated- not that Axl's ever really debated it, so much as he's already known. No assumptions, he just reads Sebastian like an open book.

That's why, when Sebastian continues to shiver and sigh and chatter his teeth, Axl simply takes a bite out of his waffle cone and steals little glimpses at him out of the corner of his eye; a smirk pulling tugging at his lips every now and then.

"Should've dressed for the occasion," he teases. "Don't you know it's the middle of October?"

Through his little trembles, Sebastian manages a huff. "It's usually so warm during the day! I don't remember the nights being this fucking chilly."

Axl tilts his head towards him then, his nose scrunched up in amusement, and it sends a flash of warmth flickering through Sebastian's veins. "Didn't even bring a jacket," he tsks. "What am I going to do with you, Bach?"

The sliver of heat in his blood redirects to his cheeks, and Sebastian lets out a quiet giggle to stifle some of the anxious energy he feels. His fingers are becoming stiff, and the cold temperature of his own melting ice cream is only amplifying the uncomfortable, prickling sensation.

He tosses it into the next trash bin they pass, wiping his hands on his flimsy shorts.

A part of him wants to ask if Axl would mind lending him his jacket, but he quickly quashes the urge. If he was going to give it to him, he already would have, right? Plus- that's not fair to just steal away his shit like that… and besides, would it even fit him?

Sparing a glance over, Sebastian catches Axl's eyes and immediately looks away. He flusters hotter, and suddenly he isn't too worried about catching a chill anymore.

As they walk, Sunset bleeds into the more general streets of the city; loud rock music that oozed from the bars and clubs fading out and being replaced with more gentler sounds, like the hum of crickets and the whistle of autumn wind. Cars whizz past while teenagers shout and saunter excitedly beneath the bright street lights, and it's… nice. It's nice with Axl beside him, their shoulders so close they're nearly touching.

Sebastian wants to hold his hand. It'd take almost zero effort to reach for it. The warmth from his knuckles is seeping into Sebastian skin, and if he had just a _little_ more courage…

Exhaling through his nose, Sebastian pulls his arm away and grabs his own hand instead. He curls his fingers over his knuckles and rubs at them idly, attempting to stimulate better circulation back into his icy digits. Another shop comes into view a few yards down the block, and Sebastian perks up when he sees silly clothes and accessories out on display.

"Oh! Axl!" He says, catching the other man's attention. "Souvenir shop, check it out!"

"Souvenirs?" Axl takes on a more bewildered tone. "Baz, you practically live here."

"So what?"

Axl glances at him then, expression reading pure confusion. Sebastian smiles brightly in return, and he swears he can see Axl's eyes widen just a little- those green hues rounding at the corners, the same look he gets when he sees something special for the very first time.

Sebastian's heart flutters in his chest when he really does grab Axl's hand this time, and with a laugh as light as bells he pulls the both of them towards the little souvenir shop down the street. "Come on!"

***

As expected, the store is small and quaint; run by an older woman who's been in charge of the place since the seventies. Sebastian didn't ask for details but she still went on to tell him anyways, letting him in on the fact that her husband had passed recently, and his dream was always to make it big in the city of angels.

"Did he?" Sebastian asks, trying on a cap with 'L.A' embroidered across the front.

"Oh, yes," the shop owner nods. "He opened many businesses across the state. Even this one here."

Sebastian turns to smile at her then, and her grin is just as big. He imagines the kind of love she must still harbor for her late husband, and suddenly the atmosphere becomes a little more bittersweet. His eyes cut over to Axl, who's currently browsing the collection of bottle openers with names on them, and his jaw sets a little more firmly. 

He moves to take off the hat at the same moment Axl calls for him. "Hey Baz!"

"Yeah?"

"They have your name," he says, holding up an opener with 'Sebastian' printed down the handle, "but they don't have mine."

Sebastian can't help letting out a particularly loud laugh. "Who's fault is that?"

He can very well guarantee that 'William' is somewhere in the hidden 'W' column, but Axl would likely sooner die than acknowledge he was once named as such. Instead he's just… W. Which is cool, Sebastian guesses. Better than the whole name, maybe. Shit, he doesn't know.

He still feels a rush of pride when Axl chuckles along with him.

"Oh, I'm sure we could find it in there somewhere," the elderly woman says in a reassuring tone, stepping closer to Axl. She readjusts the tiny pair of glasses on her nose, and leans in to squint at the rack of bottle openers. "What's your name, honey?"

Axl shares an amused look with Sebastian. The blonde wonders if he's hesitant to give out his name and potentially blow his cover, but he opens his mouth without much hesitancy. 

"Axl." And then, like an afterthought, "Without the 'E'."

"Axl," she repeats, turning the display to sift through the 'A's. "Adam, Aaron, Alex…" She hums, taking another moment to look before letting out a disappointed sigh. "Doesn't look like we have it after all. Terribly sorry about that, Axl."

Axl's smile widens. "Don't sweat it. I'm used to it."

The woman clucks her tongue. "Well that just won't do. Tell you boys what; come back in a week or so, I'll have one of these customized by the company I get them from just for you."

"Oh- thats– you don't have to—"

"Nonsense! It's no bother, hon. Just a phone call is all it'll take to get the ball rolling." She smiles, clasping her small withered hands together, and there's no way Axl can refuse a look so warm and sweet.

As predicted, the redhead melts like a stick of butter in the microwave. "If you insist," he relents.

"I do."

And well… that's that. Sebastian returns the items he's been toting around the store with a little prodding on Axl's part, and by the time they're ready to leave it's already well into the evening; stars and satellites glittering over the buildings while street shops begin to turn the signs in their windows and flicker off their lights. They both wave the friendly woman off, whose name they've both learned is Jeanette, and once they're back outside it's at least ten degrees cooler, pulling an involuntary shudder from Sebastian.

"Idiot," Axl admonishes.

Sebastian chatters out a laugh. "The things I do for you," he says wistfully. "The things I do for _fashion_."

Axl nearly chokes. " _Fashion?"_

"Oh please, Ax. You've seen my shoots, you know I'm all about that _Abercrumby and Finch_." Sebastian winks and reaches for the first item of clothing he can find, that being a fluffy tri-colored feather boa wrapped around a mannequin's neck. He throws it around his own and juts his chin up in the air.

"What, you mean the ones with your mismatching socks?" Axl teases, raising a brow.

Sebastian only harrumphs playfully and snatches the display's hat next; something that looks like what a pimp would wear, feather included and all. He fits it onto his own head, replacing his visor, and rests his hands on his hips. "It's iconic."

For the first time that night, Axl busts out in full-bellied laughter. It flushes Sebastian's cheeks with a delicate shade of pink, and he smiles goofily at his friend's unbridled mirth. Mirth _he_ caused.

"You're such a fucking dumbass sometimes," Axl says, but he's still grinning like he'd been given a billion dollars right on the spot, and Sebastian is so smitten with him that he nearly misses the glint of something black and inky and tall as it passes beneath the lamp lights a few dozen feet behind Axl, and—

Sebastian's eyes widen. His smile falters.

"Axl," he whispers, cold dread trickling into his limbs, his fingers. His heart trips and falls into the pit of his stomach, and all of their fun, all of their enjoyment, is suddenly moot. All the happiness Sebastian managed to get out of tonight feels like it was for nothing.

Axl, who'd been having a good time himself, sobers up quickly. His eyes dart over Sebastian's face, taking in the look of shock he must be projecting, and his grin slowly slips from his lips as well. 

"What?" He asks, tone quiet. "What is it?"

Sebastian glances over Axl's shoulder again, and his guts seize painfully. Fuck, _fuck._ It's him. _Izzy._

Shit, Izzy's right behind them and the sidewalk is skinny enough as is. He hasn't noticed them yet.

"Don't move," Sebastian mutters.

"What?" Of course, Axl does exactly what he shouldn't. He follows Sebastian's gaze and turns to look behind himself, but Izzy is just a few feet away now, and Sebastian can see that he's no longer staring straight ahead but looking around, and oh God oh God not now please, _please—_!

With a rush of adrenaline and courage, or maybe just desperation, Sebastian steps forward and cups Axl's face between his cool, wintry fingers. The feel of his cheeks is uncomfortably warm against Sebastian's palms, and the look in his startled eyes is unsettling, but Jesus Christ it can't end like this. They're so close to making the night theirs and Izzy shows up, Izzy is walking past and all it'll take is Axl just _looking_ at him and it's game over. 

Hands find his own, warm and callused and dry. Sebastian's already sweating from the proximity and his own gall but he can't stop now, he can't let Izzy win again, so he doesn't. 

He leans in and kisses him.

In the dim light of the street and Jeanette's closing souvenir shop he kisses Axl, colorful boa and pimp hat on and everything. The chapped skin on his lips catch slightly on the chapped skin of Axl's and the both of them breathe in twin gasps, Sebastian's body alight with fireworks and white-hot energy.

He becomes hypersensitive of the way Axl responds, the way Axl breathes. He feels Axl's fingers tense on the backs of his hands before they fall away completely, only to come back a few seconds later and grip at his waist instead. They settle there, light and unsure, and his mouth hasn't parted yet but he certainly hasn't pulled away, either, and Sebastian can't help but compare this kiss to the ones all the starstruck girls get in those cheesy rom-coms his sisters like to watch—

Just when Axl seems to be inching closer, his hands weighing down a little heavier, a voice speaks up from directly beside them.

"Axl?" It asks, and the person's voice is so _boyish_ that it couldn't possibly be Izzy.

Startled, Axl pulls away at once.

And gapes. 

In front of them, they're not met with one face, but _three._

Naturally, Izzy is the one Sebastian recognizes first. He's got the same stony expression glued to his face that he always has, a cigarette dangling from the crease of his downturns lips. Beside him, predictably, is Duff, with his hair messy and unkempt no doubt due to the wind they've just been walking through. Unlike Izzy, his face is very bright and open- hazel eyes darting between Sebastian and Axl like he's been let in on a very shocking secret.

And maybe he has.

But among them is someone they both hadn't been expecting, with his hands tucked into his jacket pockets and his own mountain of hair being held in place by a very recognizable, very familiar hat. He blinks owlishly, and Sebastian mimics the action without thought. 

"Hey Slash," he says, a bit delayed.

Through his curtain of curls, Sebastian can see the guitarist's eyes slide over to him. They lock onto the silly scarf he's wearing for a moment before darting back to Axl again, just as wide as Duff's.

"Dude!" He exclaims. "What– I had no idea that you guys were—"

Sebastian's heart hammers away in his ribcage, desperate to jump out of his chest and make a break for the hills. He can only imagine the sheer mortification Axl must feel, and guilt gnaws away painfully at his guts. He shifts nervously on his feet, and reaches up to start taking off the stupid shit he's put on.

"Man, what you saw, it's…" Sebastian swallows, unsure how to fabricate an excuse on the fucking spot, "We weren't—"

"Expecting to see you guys," Axl finishes, nonchalant. Sebastian steals a quick glance at him, his throat sealing shut.

Slash tilts his head. "Didn't you say you were busy today?"

From the corner of his eye, Sebastian sees Axl nod once. He gestures towards him. "Yeah. And as you can see…"

Slash's eyes find Sebastian again, and his mouth parts in a little 'o'. If Sebastian weren't two seconds away from passing out, he's sure he would look the exact same.

"So you're together, then?"

"Yeah."

"Like, _together_ together?"

" _Yeah_."

"Wow."

Sebastian can see the way Izzy stiffens, his discomfort visible even in the moderate darkness. The overhanging lights cast dark shadows on his sharp features, and he looks like a Hollywood supervillain when his glare narrows in on Sebastian.

Sebastian swallows again, the goosebumps on his body no longer manifesting from the cold.

_'He's going to kill me.'_

"Well shit, Ax, when were you gonna tell us?" Slash says, a smile ever-present on his face. He's clearly not upset about any of this, and that's enough to quell Sebastian's nerves _somewhat._ "We hardly hear from you these days, dude! Spending all your time with _Mr. Perfect,_ huh?"

To Slash, it checks out. Nobody but Sebastian knows that it's actually because Axl spends most of his time crying on _his_ shoulder, sleeping in _his_ guest bed.

"That's exactly it," Axl says, tone still calm as ever. He sidles closer to Sebastian and wraps an arm around his middle, his skin blazing hot against Sebastian's back, and without thinking the blonde leans into the touch to soak in more of that heat.

"Since when?" Duff pipes up.

Axl thinks about this. "A week now," he says, and Duff nods in understanding.

"Congrats, dude. I sort of had a feeling."

Sebastian can't help it- he smiles. It's soft, feels uncharacteristically bashful on his face, and when Duff glances his way his mild fascination simmers down into something a lot kinder. He smiles back, ever the romantic at heart.

He's probably known. Not about _them_ , but about _Sebastian_. His congratulations were meant for him in particular, he can feel it.

Izzy remains quiet, though he does manage to flick his cigarette on the ground and grind it out with the toe of his shoe. His indifference isn't lost on Axl, surely, and it's the kind of reaction that spurs the ire to dig deeper into Axl's flesh.

The arm around Sebastian tightens, and Sebastian nearly swoons like the twitterpated fool he is.

"Um. You guys busy?" Slash asks. When Axl shakes his head, he nods towards the open street with a little grin. "You wanna come with us? We were just about to go bar hopping."

Clearing his throat, Sebastian slowly puts the feather boa and hat back where he grabbed them from. "Sure, that'd... that'd be cool. You sure you want us to, uh, come? 'Cause I don't mind—"

"Nah, shut up," Slash's eyes twinkle from beneath the brim of his hat. "Let's go lovebirds, we reserved a table and we're already ten minutes late."

The trio begins to move again, aside from Izzy glowering just a few seconds longer like he's still debating jumping Sebastian right there on the sidewalk. His hands curl into fists at his sides, and Sebastian takes an instinctive step back.

He's about to raise his hackles for a fight, but Axl stops him with a gentle, lingering kiss to the corner of his jaw. The pressure is so soft, so believably genuine that it freezes Sebastian on the spot.

And spurs Izzy into action.

He turns on his heel and follows after Slash and Duff like he hadn't seen what just transpired between the two singers, but from the rigidity of his shoulders and the staccato of his steps it's obvious that he most certainly did.

Axl snorts in triumph, and Sebastian turns into a pile of molten mush when the man's arm drops away and long, slender fingers lace through his own. "Ready, sugar?" He asks in faux-sweetness, his breath still cloying with the scent of mint chocolate ice cream, and Sebastian swears he's never been more terrified– or in love.

This was a horrible idea.


End file.
